Clarke's Diary From The Ark
by megmakesmedia
Summary: A collection of Clarke's thoughts and feelings within the year before they get to the ground with some alterations to enable a Clexa type storyline.
1. Entry 1

**A/N. This is my first ever fic and so I apologise if it's a little rough around the edges, so stick with me :) It is going to incorporate all sorts of characters from the show one way or another, but all from Clarke's POV in the form of a diary.**

8th January, 2161

Dear Diary,

I told him not to tell anyone and he said 'your secrets safe with me', that was obviously untrue.

I feel so numb. My body is full of overwhelm and negative feelings I never thought to exist.

Wells. I can't even write his name without feeling like I'm going to throw up. And now because of him, I've been stuck inside this solitary, cold box. They just threw me in here, like I was garbage, only half an hour after they... After they... I can't. It's been a month and yet in here it feels like no time has passed at all.

I get up, eat, lay in bed, eat some more, maybe draw something (I have to be careful though, there's only so much wall space) and I did cry at first, but I don't think my body physically has any tears left to shed.

So many thoughts run through my head, and they're the same every day. He could have kept quiet and not said anything to Jaha. He could have pretended he didn't know. Perhaps that's selfish of me, but I can't see beyond anything else right now.

Until now, there was nothing inside this hollow, bleak metal box/cell/solitary confinement, whatever, other than me and my thoughts. Only now I get to write them down after begging to be able to do so (one of the guards took pity on me and gave me some paper. She must be new, because that so called pity they have on us, goes away pretty quickly after being on the job for more than a week). However, I'm not sure how keen I am on that prospect right now, given that the future for my seventeen old self looks much the same as it does now, insecure and unpredictable. But who am I kidding, it's apparent none of us have much of a future anyway.

Solitary. I wish I was eighteen and got floated because I feel like I've got nothing left to live for.

Clarke.


	2. Entry 2

10th January, 2161

Dear Diary,

Not much has changed in the past couple of days. I've just been sleeping and the guards have tried to force me to eat, to no avail.

Some interesting news however, is I discovered by overhearing the guards say something about them not being able to hold anymore prisoners and I therefore make the total of a 100 juvenile delinquents.

I assume anyone else under the age of eighteen will get floated given the lack of space and I have no doubt that will cause an uproar in itself. They can take my place any day. I am here purely by association, and nothing else. It makes me wonder how many others here are also in that position.

The other piece of information I have for lack of better news is that now I've been here a month, I apparently am allowed to have one hour day in the designated prison area of the mess hall. I never even knew it existed. I'm not even sure if I want that hour, or if I just want to sleep it away because the pain of reality is still far too much to bare.

Nothing will be like it was, and maybe I should tell my story in here. Before it got bad. Before nothing felt right. Maybe that will help heal me, or damage me more reliving my apparent previous seamless life, who knows.

Anyway, I think a guards coming to either tell me to eat, or allow me to go down to the mess hall, both of which today I will likely decline.

Until next time.

Clarke.


	3. Entry 3

**A/N: Not too sure where this is going at the moment, and I'm not entirely sure how relevant this entry is to the story, but we'll see. I'm absolutely open to constructive criticism and comments. :)**

10th January 2161 (Evening)

Ok so I'm just gonna jump right in and say this.

They literally dragged me, and I mean grabbed my arms, pulled me out of my cell, down the fragile metal stairs, into the horrible, cold (clearly run down part of the mess hall) DRAGGED.

Before this, I could hear other prisoners being escorted down from other floors, but apparently being much more compliant than myself.

Then I heard the guards walk onto my floor, the top floor, which I now have discovered is apparently where the most aggressive prisoners are kept, given the behaviour I experienced once I was out of my cell. This angers me even more, why am I on the top floor? Is it temporary? I didn't even commit a crime.

Anyway, back to the dragging. One guard came to open my door and just stood there in the doorway for what felt like an eternity, and almost sheepishly said 'Let's go, Griffin'. She didn't even look at me. I returned the favour and also shared no eye contact and just remained sat on my bed, refusing to go. She then walkie talkied another guard, basically saying I wasn't complying, and called for backup. Back up? For me? It was almost laughable. All I wanted to do was stay in bed, but apparently that wasn't gonna fly. So the other guard came, named Harris, stepped into my cell and just stared down at me, looking at me enough for the both of them. All he said to me was 'MOVE.' and before I could react, he and the first guard were dragging me off of my bed an downstairs. The entire time this was happening, it was clear the other one was uncomfortable dragging someone around. She really doesn't fit the profile for the job, and I'm pretty sure she's the same person that gave me my paper for this diary. I don't know, it's all such a blur.

By the time I finally get to the mess hall, I'm sat down, chained to the table as I overhear Harris tell one of the chefs 'This is the one that hasn't eaten in about three days. You must make sure she eats, or we resort to option B'. So I ate. I don't know what option B is, but I don't know if I want to find out either. Not today anyway.

Each floor of prisoners were separated by different tables. Five floors, five tables, and I was sat at table five. The table of the murderers and most hardened criminals. Sat opposite me was a girl with long brown hair, looking as lost as I felt. We didn't speak, just kept our gaze at each other instead of anything else because for whatever reason, there seemed to be an unspoken mutual feeling of safety. And in this place, you grab any chance at that feeling you can.

As I get escorted back to my cell by that same woman, I overhear on the radio (which I'm fairly certain I wasn't supposed to), 'Lexa, you need to be more assertive. If not, you're gonna last much less than a week on this job'. She promptly turned it off in a panic, almost completely letting me go. When she got hold of me again she looked at me, almost terrified I would overpower her and run away. But I'm too broken to even bother to cause trouble. Not that she knows that, she probably thinks I'm a murderer like the rest of them. But I know her name now at least. Lexa. As I walked over to my bed, I felt like she needed some sort of consolation to understand that I wasn't like the others in here, so I just said 'Thank you for the paper.', and gave her a half smile. She smiled back and we made eye contact for the first time.

Once she left, this filled me with rage I never even knew I had inside me though. Why am I trying to make a GUARD feel better about themselves? Did her dad die? Is she in here for no reason? but I don't know. Maybe she's been through worse, although I can't think of much worse than losing someone you love. I just can't see beyond myself.

Clarke.


	4. Entry 4

11th January 2161.

I just woke up from a dream that my dad was still alive and we were living on the ground. You can imagine how I felt when I realised where I was. It just makes me want to go back to sleep. And I don't know why but I'm not allowed to see my mum either, for reasons they won't tell me and right now, I just want her to hold me, like when I was little. Dad was the determined one, but she's the strong one.

Wells did this. He broke our family. I told him in confidence, my best friend, that the ark was dying and he just went behind my back and told his dad (the chancellor, Jaha) what my dad knew and what he was going to do and got him killed. I will never forgive him and what makes it that much harder, is that if one of my memories isn't just with my mum and dad, he's there. All the time. I wish someone would extract my memories and implant new ones.

It's 8AM and was just delivered my lovely breakfast of grey oatmeal through the hole. If I wasn't depressed before, I am now. It would even suck the joy out of the happiest man alive, and they wonder why I'm not eating?

I've got nine hours to kill until my one hour in the mess hall, so, I dunno, I'll probably just sleep and hope I dream again. Seems it's my only form of escape.

So I didn't put up a fight tonight, just followed the guard (Lexa) down, sat, ate, and exchanged more eye contact with the girl with the long brown hair. After half an hour, she told me her name 'Octavia'. I returned the favour and we just sat and ate quietly. Thankfully, the food in the mess hall is actually passable compared to what you get in the morning and at lunch.

As it turns out, Octavia's cell is next to mine and I guess that brings me some sort of strange comfort.

Clarke.


End file.
